


The Strangers

by ifwegettherebysunset



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: Curses, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, Self-Indulgent, Technomage Yusei, so self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwegettherebysunset/pseuds/ifwegettherebysunset
Summary: Yusei's garage brings in a strange clientele. Yusei doesn't know why.





	The Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> when i started writing, i wasn't planning on writing THIS. It's so damn self-indulgent tho like. mm

Objectively, Yusei knows he looks different from everyone else. Not because of the prison mark—or not _just_ because of the prison mark. His hair, no matter how much he tries, always sticks up in strange directions, and no amount of dye can suppress the yellow streaks. His eyes, cobalt blue, are also strange, and despite his best efforts at blending in, anything he wears seems to flourish when he walks, as if taken by an invisible wind.

The best he can do is conceal the red mark on his arm. Too large to be a normal birthmark, and that’s not counting the shape. It looks like a dragon’s head.

At the very least, there are other strange-looking people in the world. Not that Yusei thinks dying your hair or getting tattoos is abnormal. But whenever he offers compliments, the people who walk into his garage always laugh as if he’s made a joke.

They make up most of his clientele, these strangers. Neo Domino’s a big city, so it’s not out of the ordinary that Yusei wouldn’t recognize them. But they visit his humble place so often that it becomes a niggling question. The small square Poppo Time overlooks is like a little town that happens to rest among skyscrapers instead of mountains. If they’re not from the area, how could they know about Yusei’s nondescript shop?

Yusei tries asking. His customers, who are quickly becoming regulars since his opening, just laugh again.

However they’ve found him, they bring interesting orders. Some with concrete designs, crudely drawn on paper for Yusei to parse out with them. Others have things in need of repair—even clocks, insisting he take it no matter how many times he points to Poppo Time right next door.

But surprisingly, a lot of them come in with odd concepts. Recently, one came in asking for a little mechanical tree that radiates shelter, with branches made of love and a trunk of solidarity. Yusei does his best. His customers seem satisfied, so he supposes he’s doing it right.

Today, Yusei opens his garage to find two men, one tall, one short, already standing there. The tall one, blond with a flourishing white and purple coat, chugs coffee. Understandable, since it’s barely past dawn.

“ _Finally_!” the tall one snaps.

The short one, red hair sticking up like broccoli, smiles. “Don’t mind him. He’s just sore I dragged him out so late.”

The strangers use the sort of language too. Just a little off-kilter from the rest of the world, as if they don’t quite fit. _Late_ for _early_ , and so on. After a year of it, Yusei’s grown accustomed, and merely nods.

The short one holds out his hand. “Call me Crow! This is Jack.”

Yusei shakes it. “Yusei.”

“Obviously,” Jack grumbles, “Let’s get on with it.” He points to Yusei’s bike, leaning by the staircase. Grandly, he announces, “We want something like that.”

Yusei brightens at the prospect. He loves building vehicles in particular—taking a few nuts and bolts, other odds and ends, and combining them to create something amazing. It’s a reminder that no part, however small, is insignificant.

“We want ours to look different,” Crow says, “Personal touch and stuff.”

Yusei nods again. “Anything specific in mind?”

“Grandeur,” Jack proclaims, arms crossed, “Infuse mine with Fortune’s smile and the roar of a dragon!”

“I want a bird’s freedom in mine,” Crow says, “The spirit of flight, with a crow’s cry. Y’know, to fit my taken name.”

Both requests sound daunting, but Yusei’s creativity sparks. He prefers these orders over any regular job. There’s a strange giddiness that unfailingly tightens his stomach.

His expression shows nothing but a slight smile. “Okay. Is there a time constraint?”

Crow speaks over Jack. “No. Take your time.”

They negotiate price. Crow admits they’re not exactly rich, so Yusei agrees to payment in installments. The first, given right away, is still enough for rent. Crow’s been saving for this—saying so while side-eyeing Jack—and Yusei can respect that.

They also agree that Yusei will send the preliminary sketches via email. The address, as Yusei has found is usual for his strangers, looks like a keyboard smash. But it’s actually a puzzle, or Yusei takes it to be. This one conveys a formal email used by both Crow and Jack.

If you asked Yusei how he figured it out, though, he couldn’t answer. He just _knows_.

Jack and Crow stick around to offer initial ideas while Yusei gets to drawing. But they can’t stick around forever, and leave it all, as Crow puts it, in Yusei’s capable hands.

(~*~)

Three days after Jack and Crow’s order, two children with green turquoise hair bounce up to Yusei. They want Duel Disks, blue and red respectively.

The boy, Rua, wishes for his to be infused with might and protection.

The girl, Ruka, wishes for a drop of gentle spring sunshine through a forest canopy and the gentleness of sanctuary.

Yusei can’t help smiling. He gets on one knee and asks if they’d like to watch him work. Ruka’s a bit hesitant, doesn’t want to disturb him, but Yusei can tell she shares her brother’s eager shout.

“Make Ruka’s first!” Rua insists. He clearly adores his sister. Yusei’s smile grows.

It’s autumn right now, but Yusei’s not in the habit of putting exposed machinery in sunlight anyway. While making Ruka’s Disk, then, he thinks not of a forest but a crumbling train station. Not always safe, but a place with friends’ welcoming smiles. The place no longer exists, replaced by renovated walls and working lights, but the feeling remains.

And, as always with the strangers’ orders, he thinks of a frequent dream. Nothing clear, though he knows he’s in Neo Domino from the feeling of _home_. Something is wrapped around him, warm as a star. No nightmares of prison or the struggles of Satellite can reach him. Not even Kiryu’s last angry cries penetrate the steady humming of whatever’s surrounding him. A gentle sanctuary.

For the drop of sunshine, Yusei thinks of a washing machine on top of a junk pile. As his friend Rally puts it, he used to brood on it. But really he was just looking at Neo Domino and enjoying the sunshine. Surrounded by garbage, it smelled terrible, but you got used to that. Yusei focuses on the sea salt and soothing breeze.

That’s what you need for these orders. You have to feel it, put your heart into it. Another thing Yusei just _knows_. It’s easy for him, passionate as he is about his work.

A Duel Disk is simple for him. Doesn’t take more than an hour before he’s painting the red. When he’s finished, he sets it aside and tells Ruka they have to wait for the paint to dry. Won’t be long, he promises.

Ruka stares at the Disk as if it’s a marvel. “You’re amazing, Yusei,” she whispers.

Yusei smiles and pats her shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I _love_ it! And the way you work—you wove everything I wanted in!” She clasps her hands together, beaming. “Thank you!”

“Me next!” Rua cries, “Remember, I want might and protection!”

Yusei just thinks of his dream again. It’s a versatile thing. Whatever’s cradling him is strong, he knows, pristine white and blue with a mighty heartbeat. He’s never wanted protection, but when he’s clutched in the colors and heartbeat, he realizes he needs it sometimes. The presence is dependable, as Rua wants to be, undoubtedly for his sister.

He retrieves the blue paint soon enough.

“So cool!” Rua yells, stars in his eyes. “Yusei, you really are amazing!”

Yusei shakes his head, still smiling. “I hope it’s the mighty shield you want.”

“I thought I wanted a sword,” Rua says, “But you’re right. A shield’s way better!”

Ruka laughs.

On top of the price, the tip they leave is frankly outrageous. But they don’t let Yusei hand any of it back, running off with their new Disks.

(~*~)

Three days after that, a woman with dark pink hair and rose red and white clothes storms in.

“What do I need?” she demands.

Yusei blinks. “That’s usually what you tell me.”

Her lip twists in a sneer. “Answer me.”

And, well, she’s intimidating. So Yusei observes her.

His mouth moves. He couldn’t say where the words come from.

“You need to drive for yourself.”

She balks.

“I make bikes,” Yusei says, “I can—”

“How _dare_ you!” she shouts, and storms out as quickly as she came.

Yusei starts sketching anyway.

(~*~)

Jack and Crow’s bikes are done. D-Wheels, as they’d added in emails, since apparently Jack had assumed he’d know.

For Jack’s bike, he’d made the color scheme match Jack’s billowing coat, white with lavender touches. He’d put a giant wheel in it to symbolize Fortune’s Wheel—a subtle reminder that Fortune turns for everyone, smiling and frowning in turn. It’s size alone conveys power and regality, grand as he could get, though Yusei’s far from grand himself. His dream guardian, however, certainly is.

For Crow’s, he incorporated the crow in the predominantly black color, the bird’s spirit in the orange aquiline eyes at the front. Fearsome, stalwart. Also, there are wings and a rocket. Yusei’s dream has wings, he’s pretty sure. He couldn’t not put that free spirit, superfluous as it may seem. It’s what Crow wanted, anyway.

Even Jack says, “Impressive.”

“Impressive? This is _art_!” Crow shouts. “I don’t know how to thank you. I owe you.”

“No,” Yusei replies quickly, “You’re already paying for them.”

“Hey, don’t refuse debts owed!” Crow scolds, as if it’s shocking Yusei did.

Yusei rubs the back of his neck, forgetting his fingers are covered in motor oil. “Ah. Okay.”

“I owe you too,” Jack says gravely.

“Definitely don’t refuse that,” Crow says, grinning, “Jack _never_ lets himself go in debt. Aside from financial debt.” He glowers at his friend.

They give Yusei their numbers. Whatever he needs, they’ll be there. It’s—nice, really. Yusei doesn’t think they consider him a _friend_ , but still.

They ride their bikes out. Yusei’s gratified to see they look like they belong on them.

Three hours later, the woman returns. Her steps are slow, expression tight.

Yusei has a bike for her too. Pink, almost the shade of her hair. Fast, maneuverable, built for a new rider. A rose with thorns, but a blooming one, capable of more than drawing blood.

She sets her jaw at the sight of it. She whispers a thank you.

Yusei refuses payment. He simply offers the helmet and says, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She replies, “I owe you,” and won’t let him say otherwise either.

(~*~)

For whatever reason, Yusei thinks of these three orders when, three weeks after their completion, a new customer arrives.

His step is confident, jacket hanging from his shoulders like a cape. His hair tops all styles Yusei’s seen—blond bangs with spikes of red and black. His clothes hug in frame, gold bands clasped on his thick arms. Yet his smile is kind.

Yusei is in awe of him. For a crazy second, he thinks he should bow.

“Hello,” he says quietly.

“Hello, Yusei,” the man replies, as if greeting an old friend. “How are you?”

Yusei’s fingers fiddle with his wrench. “Fine. How are you?”

“Very well. I have a job for you. I’ve been told you’re someone of great caliber.”

And Yusei thinks of those three orders. “I do my best.”

The man’s smile grows. “I’m glad I found you, then.”

There’s something strange in his tone. Yusei can’t place it.

It’s gone when the man speaks again. “I need a chain. I have a pendant, you see, a heavy one. It must be unbreakable, and considering the pendant’s nature—” grimacing slightly, “—it must be imbued with something to counteract it. Friendship, hope, and faith.”

Yusei swallows. “I’ll need to see the pendant.”

The man shakes his head. “Until the chain is done, I can take it nowhere. I trust you.”

Though said often by the strangers, this man’s trust strikes Yusei. He can only nod.

“I need it before the full moon. Three days, Yusei. Can you do it?”

He feels like he _has_ to. “Yes.”

“Good. I will be back.”

The sunlight seems to dim when he’s gone.

(~*~)

Friendship.

Yusei thinks of Jack and Crow. Crow’s teasing, Jack’s superiority, both united despite their differences. Their faces when Yusei presented their bikes.

Hope.

Rua and Ruka. Their youth alone is hope for the future. But they also hope for victories with their new Duel Disks. Hope for protection, for courage.

Faith.

The woman. She needs all the faith she can get—faith in herself most of all. Yusei knows in his heart that she deserves it.

Warmth.

Yusei’s own addition. His dream plays behind his eyes more vividly than ever when shaping the chain’s links, combining the three qualities. The heartbeat, the humming, warm as the stars. Cold isolation will never penetrate it. The wearer will be safe as Yusei always feels.

The man returns exactly three days later. Yusei presents the chain.

“Incredible,” he murmurs, weighing it in his hands. “It’s more than I expected—so warm.”

His eyes are so unique. Yusei wants to fidget under their undivided attention.

“Thank you, Yusei,” the man says, “Your magic truly is something to behold.”

Yusei tilts his head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir.”

The man smiles. “No need to be modest. You have uncanny power.”

“I certainly try, but I wouldn’t call it magic.”

His customer’s brow furrows. “But you’re…”

Yusei waits.

“I—I’d learned from your friends that your curse had taken your memory, but—”

“Memory?” Yusei asks warily.

The man wilts. “It was my fault. But I thought even the Puzzle wouldn’t have taken your entire—I’m so sorry.”

Yusei subtly backs away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No—no, of course not.” The man takes a deep breath. “My name is Atem.”

The air surges, as if the name is an unfurling presence. Yusei’s lungs stutter under it.

“I am a fae king, holder of the Puzzle, a labyrinth contained in blood gold. Exactly one year and three months ago, that Puzzle, whose chain you have constructed, was torn from my neck and used against you. You disappeared.”

Yusei carefully runs the garage layout in his head, calculating exits.

Atem takes a step forward. “You were taken from me, from our friends, from everything. Even, I see now, awareness of your true self. We have been searching for you, and finally rumors spread of a fae mechanic that could do anything.”

He’ll call Ushio, one of the few good policemen on the force.

“Three visits. Jack and Crow.” Yusei pauses. “Rua and Ruka. Aki, elusive though she is, confirmed their stories. They were the only ones who recognized you—a side effect of the curse, most likely. I know it must sound strange. But.”

Atem slowly holds out his hand, taking Yusei’s numb fingers.

“I love you,” he says.

Exit plans shrivel to nothing. Yusei stands, frozen, as Atem cups his cheek and kisses him.

They met at a tournament. Yusei had been impressed by him, of course, but he’d never expected Atem to also be impressed in return.

They had dueled often. Yusei always lost. Still Atem admired him.

They were wedded when spring clawed out of winter.

Yusei’s memories were not completely erased. Some had been altered. Kiryu remained, but every other friend Yusei’d had before he’d left Satellite, with the exception of Jack and Crow, had been taken. He’d still gone to prison but had pulled himself out without help.

The Fortune Cup in Atem’s land. Aki. He hasn’t seen her since, until three weeks ago.

 _Stardust_.

The reason not everything was lost. Xe’s been protecting him. Just hadn’t gotten there in time to defend him from everything. His companion, his soul, born of his mark, which he wears openly—or used to wear openly.

It all flashes behind Yusei’s eyes in the span of a short, loving kiss.

Atem touches their foreheads. “Yusei?”

A sob wrenches from Yusei before he can stop it.

Atem yanks him close, and they bury themselves in each other’s shoulders. Everything looks strange now. More colorful. As if Yusei had been living in a gray haze.

But Yusei likes his garage. Likes its simplicity, its neighborhood. He’d only ever did a few occasional tasks back home— _home_ —nothing established like this. The curse didn’t touch anything here.

When he can get his breathing under control, he tells Atem as much.

Atem smiles. “You do seem to fit here. I’ve always enjoyed this city. But—”

“I’ll come back,” Yusei says, gripping his arms, “Of course I’ll come back, I just wanted—”

“So long as you return to me at the end of the day, Yusei, you can roam wherever your feet take you.”

Yusei tears off his gloves so he can grab Atem’s face with his bare hands. This kiss is clinging.

He feels Stardust, properly feels xem, shining in his mark.

“I can take us,” Yusei says.

Atem eyes his bike. “Tell me you have a spare helmet.”

“Yes.”

Stardust guides them home.


End file.
